This has not been a good week. Actually, I have not had a good week since my daughter passed away. Every day holds a new challenge and a new surprise.
We were dreading doing our taxes this year because we had to file final tax returns for my husband’s mother and our sweet daughter. I remember crying when my husband told me that Amy’s W2 arrived in the mail. My husband and I looked like zombies as the accountant sat at our dining room table working silently on those returns. Why aren’t they signing their own tax returns? How could this be my 27 year old daughter’s last tax return?
2013 was the last year my daughter’s physical presence was in this world. The “last time” in reference to Amy has become two of the saddest words in my heart. I remember the year she insisted on buying us a tv with part of her tax refund. She had to rent a U-Haul to get the tv home. My sweet girl was always so very kind and generous. It breaks my heart every second of every day that she is not here living her life, cooking a new recipe, meeting me for lunch, reaching her goals or even slamming a door because I said something that struck a nerve in her. She loved her job and is it unreasonable to just want her to be here this year daydreaming about what she would do with her refund? Last year she paid off her credit card. She was so responsible, that girl of mine.
Enter evil into our life to compound our pain, when the accountant called us the next day and informed my husband that he could not file Amy’s tax return because it had already been filed and that my deceased daughter was a victim of identity theft. Happens more often than you think is what he told us. I wanted to throw up! What evil lurks among us who would steal my daughter’s identity. We were told there are those who routinely search the obituaries and do this all of the time. There has to be karma and I hope this low life bastard burns in hell! Oh wait, I recently read there is no hell. Since I lost my daughter there have been days when I wondered if this was hell. Surely the pain that I never knew existed until August 4 and which consumes me at times must be part of my private hell.
How could someone exploit my daughter — hasn’t she been through enough?! Haven’t we been through enough too?
Then the mail arrives and I receive a package from a prayer shawl ministry in Florida. After I received my prayer shawl from my husband’s co-worker, I decided I wanted to dig out my crochet hook and attempt to make prayer shawls for others in memory of my daughter. In searching the internet for a pattern, I stumbled across a prayer shawl ministry and decided to send an email, share a little of my sad story, since I needed a very simple pattern which I could follow in my grief fog, inquiring if someone would be willing to share a simple prayer shawl pattern with me. The pastor answered my email immediately and hours later I received an email from a very kind woman.
The next day that same woman emailed me and told me that the prayer shawl ministry had a meeting and that she had read my email to her group and they had all prayed for me and were sending me a shawl.
When I opened up the package, not only did I find a beautiful shawl but also a prayer book with a lovely note. I admit I find it hard to pray. My faith has been tested just like I, personally, am being tested. I wonder all of the time how I can survive losing Amy! And why when God/the Universe decided to call my daughter’s number on August 4? Time’s up! Heaven for you, my sweet daughter! A Heaven which you are so worthy of and truly deserve all it offers in all it’s glory, but wait … can’t You send her back to continue adding good to this mixed up world?! Why did You decide to save those that lived to tell their stories? Oh right, I was going to stop asking Why? Fat chance of that! It still makes no sense! Note to self: stop going there; not helping!
Much to some of my friends and family’s surprise, time is not doing much to heal this wound. Sometimes it hurts as much as if it just happened. It felt that way at times this week. Another week that left me in worse shape than when I started the week which wasn’t in the best of shape.
Side bar: In addition to the events that transpired above, I am still shocked by the things people continue to say and do. How my grief and horrific loss of my daughter inconveniences them and how they feel compelled to share how it affects them. Nine out of ten times I hide my invisible wound well. But there are days I cannot restuff myself or reset myself and I need to retreat for a day to regroup. It makes me wonder if it’s worth the energy I use to push myself most of the time. Clueless, self centered folks are every where. Yes, I was clueless that this grieving world existed, but I have never been one who sulked or complained when I did not get my ego fed or enough attention from someone who was down for the count! I just don’t tick that way.
Anyway, while an unknown evil entered into my life this week, so did a group of kind and compassionate strangers from Florida who took some of the sting out of that evilness!
Wonder what next week has in store for me?!
I miss Amy. I miss pulling up to my house and looking up at Amy’s bedroom windows and seeing the light on in her room or her car, Brutus, the name she gave her car, parked in front of our house. I miss her voice, her smell, her hugs, her text messages … I miss my old life.
Remember Amy and remember her sweet Italian Grandmom who we miss each and every day too. I can’t believe it’s been one year tomorrow that this wonderful woman left this world…and who knew your granddaughter would join you 4.5 months later. Take good care of my baby, Mrs. I.